


to oblivious idiots

by adorablecrab



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, So many Harry Potter references, Trans Enjolras, WARNINGS:, alcohol mention, so many space movies, that's it I think, they are all such nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorablecrab/pseuds/adorablecrab
Summary: Enjolras comes up with a brilliant Plan to get Éponine and Combeferre together and needs Grantaire's help.





	to oblivious idiots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheLordOfLaMancha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/gifts).



> I was in distress by the lack of light Éponine/Combeferre content and this nonsense happened. This is partially Amanda's fault and totally done thinking of her.
> 
> Many thanks to Freckle for encouraging me and not letting me give up on this, and for proofreading my mess in the end <3

Combeferre doesn’t like going out to clubs. It’s loud and people sometimes want to dance, and he always ends up having to take care of someone who’s had too much to drink. Usually Courfeyrac. The only reason he came tonight was because Éponine asked him to. He isn’t sure why Enjolras is here.

Speaking of Enjolras, he and Grantaire are currently tangled together across from him in the booth. Combeferre stares in disbelief as Enjolras lovingly pets Grantaire’s hair, arms wrapped around his neck and a distant expression on his face. Grantaire’s face is partially hidden by Enjolras’ arm and he has his arms tight around Enjolras’ waist. They are both very drunk.

Yes, Enjolras gets over-affectionate when he has had something to drink and his walls go down _. Especially_ towards Grantaire, who is usually quick to get as far away as he can from Enjolras in these rare occasions. But Combeferre wasn’t prepared to deal with both of them acting like this at the same time. He pinches the bridge of his nose when Enjolras giggles loudly at something Grantaire said. He is going to need help getting these two home.

“Can you believe that?”

A glass full of beer is placed in front of him on the table and he looks up to see Éponine giving the display in front of them an amused look. He slides further into the booth, a silent invitation for her to sit beside him. He almost knocks the glass over in the process. She sits down and touches her own glass to his.

“To oblivious idiots,” she says, leaning in so only he can hear her over the music. Too loud for his taste, but if that means Éponine has to come closer to talk to him he is not going to complain. Much. He smiles and sips at the drink.

“How’s that one?” she asks watching him with a crooked smile.

“It’s almost good,” he says thoughtfully. “Thank you.”

She makes an exaggerated gasping noise. He bumps her shoulder lightly with his own and she pushes back towards him. They stay like that, leaning against each other. Combeferre feels the back of his neck grow hot.

He isn’t a big fan of beer, but Éponine and Grantaire have been trying to get him to try a new one every time they go out. So far, they’ve figured that he likes the darker and less bitter ones better. His favorite was one that kind of tasted like coffee.

When Combeferre glances at Enjolras and Grantaire again, he catches them looking away quickly. Grantaire goes back to hiding his face against Enjolras’ shoulder, and Enjolras looks at where the rest of their friends are gathered by the bar. Suspicious.

He and Éponine sit in silence for a while. It’s often difficult for them to get a conversation started. It usually begins with long stretches of silence, until one of them brings up a topic they will discuss indefinitely. All Combeferre has to do is breathe, not panic and not tell any random dinosaur fact. Well, she might actually like that. He is glad that the beer gives him something to do with his hands.

“So I just finished ‘Life, the Universe and Everything,’” she begins.

He smiles. There it is.

\--

Two days earlier

Grantaire is sketching absentmindedly on his sketchbook at the Musain, when a voice makes him jump.

“Tell me I’m not going crazy.”

Grantaire looks up and Enjolras is standing beside his chair, frowning. Grantaire instinctively covers the page he’d been doodling on, just in case there are any embarrassing sketches of Enjolras in it. He rewinds the last couple of hours in his head to make sure he didn’t do or say anything stupid. He is fine, he thinks.

“I’m gonna need a little more context here.”

Enjolras sits down on the chair beside him and gestures with his head towards where Combeferre and Éponine are sitting together at a nearby table, looking at a book. They have the most stupid fond smiles on their faces as they glance at each other. Grantaire would bet they are talking about space.

“Oh, _that_ ,” he sniggers and Enjolras looks at him expectantly. “If anyone is going crazy it’s me with secretly love-struck Éponine.”

“Right?” Enjolras says urgently, wide-eyed and leaning closer to Grantaire. “Ferre keeps reading space facts out loud to me so he will remember to tell her later! I’ve been learning so much about space.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes, but smiles affectionately. It’s good to know Combeferre’s crush is as big as Éponine’s. Not that it wasn’t obvious but like, an official Enjolras Seal and everything.

“Has she said anything?” Enjolras asks.

“She threatened to stab me with a fork when I tried to bring it up. Did he?”

Enjolras frowns. “He gets up and makes me tea every time I try,” he thinks for a moment, resting his elbows on the table. “We should do something.”

Grantaire gasps. “Meddling in our friends’ love affairs? Who are you and what have you done to Enjolras?”

Enjolras fails to suppress a smile. “I’m serious, R!”

Enjolras glances back to Combeferre and Éponine and his expression softens. He really does seem cold and distant when you first meet him, but the love he has for his friends is like a very real warm glow that emanates from him when you get to know him better.

“You are probably right, it doesn’t concern us…” he says, leaning back in his chair looking sheepish. He shrugs. “I don’t know, I just wanted to help.”

Grantaire sighs. It’s not like he wouldn’t follow Enjolras’ every single crazy idea. Besides, Éponine deserves it. If she doesn’t end up killing both of them in the process, that is.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Enjolras smiles and Grantaire thinks it’s already worth it. He leans towards Grantaire again.

“So, remember that time…” He trails off and, to Grantaire’s surprise, he’s suddenly gone very red. “Remember that time I got drunk at Courf’s and… you had to help Ferre take me home…”

Grantaire remembers it all too well. Enjolras had gotten completely wasted, attached himself to Grantaire and refused to let go for an entire evening. Grantaire still remembers his breath sweet and hot against his skin. He had made Grantaire promise to stay over, which of course he did. He made breakfast for a very hungover and apologetic Enjolras and an amused Combeferre in the morning. The smell of strawberry daiquiris still gives him butterflies.

“I’m surprised you remember,” he says with a smirk.

“I don’t... remember much. Ferre told me about it,” Enjolras says, not meeting his eyes. “But my point is, if we do something like that, both of us, they are going to have to take us home, right? And then, I don’t know, we can insist on a sleepover or… this is a terrible idea.” He throws himself back against the chair, defeated.

“It is pretty bad,” Grantaire laughs. “So you want to get smashed to play cupid for our friends?”

“Well, not get smashed for real, we would have to keep the situation under control. Just, you know, pretend...” Enjolras’ voice gets lower at each word and he seems to shrink on his chair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… just forget about it.”

Enjolras gets up and Grantaire reaches out to grab one of his wrists, but lets go immediately as if he’d been shocked. Enjolras sits back down.

“Sorry. Look, as far as ideas go, not ideal.” He tries to sound reassuring, confident, even. “But what do we have to lose, right?”

Enjolras smiles. “So we’re doing this?”

Grantaire nods and tries not to think about slender arms around his neck.

\--

This, Grantaire thinks, is fucking torture. He is seriously considering ditching the plan and running to the bar. Éponine is a big girl, she doesn’t need their help.

Enjolras has been softly stroking his hair for the past twenty minutes, clinging to Grantaire’s neck, and that’s not even the worst part. Enjolras always gets strangely attached to Grantaire’s hair after half a drink. Or when he’s tired. The strangest part is that they have been talking for the past twenty minutes.

Not bickering. Not debating. _Talking_.

They don’t even need to keep their voices down so Combeferre and Éponine won’t listen. The music is fairly loud and Enjolras is so close. Too close. Grantaire is barely breathing.

So far, they have talked about the Harry Potter movies versus the film adaptations, tried to sort their friends into the proper houses at Hogwarts, disagreed upon their own house placements - “What the hell, Enjolras, you are clearly a Slytherin!”, “I am a Hufflepuff and proud! Nothing against Slytherins though.” - and, of course, tried to keep an eye on the Éponine and Combeferre situation.

The two of them are talking, and it’s sweet. But, as expected, nothing different than usual. You wouldn’t think they’d have so much to say to each other. Grantaire is very close to feeling completely overwhelmed by Enjolras’ proximity. He nudges him lightly on the side.

“I need water.”

Enjolras lets go of him and gets up, waiting by the table for Grantaire to follow. He makes a show of losing his balance and Grantaire instinctively reaches out to steady him as they start walking - Enjolras is a surprisingly good actor. He doesn’t let go of Grantaire’s arm once they are out of Combeferre and Éponine’s view.

“Do you think it’s working? They seemed close!” Enjolras asks excitedly as Grantaire is ordering water at the bar.

“Whatever is happening I don’t think it has anything to do with us,” he says. “Can you believe he got her to read Hitchhiker’s Guide? I have been trying for ages!”

Enjolras smiles. “Ferre can be charming when he wants to.”

“Are you saying I’m not charming?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that, okay?” Then he gives Grantaire an uncertain look. “I’m sorry about all of this this. Just a little while longer…”

Before Grantaire can answer, Enjolras looks startled at something over his shoulder. Grantaire doesn’t have time to turn around because Enjolras’ arms are around his neck again. _Fucking torture_ , he manages to think, before hearing Éponine’s voice behind his back.

“Come on, assholes, we are leaving!”

\--

“Should we get two separate cabs?” Éponine asks as they reach the sidewalk, taking out her phone.

“No, we are having a sleepover!” Enjolras exclaims, link his arm with hers.

“I don’t think-” Combeferre begins, but Grantaire cuts him off.

“We totally are! Already called a cab. Just the one.”

Combeferre narrows his eyes at him and Grantaire grins, but he’s distracted by the sound of Éponine’s laughter as she tries to disentangle herself from Enjolras, who is apparently trying to squeeze her as hard as he can. Grantaire joins him and soon Combeferre gets dragged into the hug too and they are one laughing, stumbling, eight legged creature as they wait for their ride.

“I call shotgun!” Grantaire exclaims when the cab stops in front of them, slipping into the passenger’s seat and greeting the driver, giving surprisingly precise instructions to Combeferre and Enjolras’ building. _Suspicious_.

Éponine ends up between Enjolras and Combeferre. There would be plenty of space for the three of them to sit comfortably in the back, but Enjolras is leaning heavily on Éponine’s shoulder and she is pressed against Combeferre’s. After a few attempts to get Enjolras to sit up straight she gives up and puts one arm around his neck, looking up at Combeferre and rolling her eyes.

He wants to put his arm around her shoulders. He even thinks it would be fine, but his arms feel frozen is place.

He stays still the entire ride home, listening to Grantaire and Éponine chat happily with the cab driver.

When they get to the apartment, Enjolras throws himself on the couch and drags Grantaire with him. They stay half sitting, half lying down, their eyes closed.

“I should just go…” Éponine is standing by the door. And she seems uncertain? Nervous?

He really wants her to stay.

“You don’t have to,” Combeferre tries to keep his voice even. He swears he can feel Enjolras’ and Grantaire’s eyes on the back of his neck. “I’ll drag Enjolras to his room and R can take the air mattress. The couch is comfortable...”

She thinks for a moment, biting her lip. “Yeah, okay,” she squints at the tangle of limbs on the couch. “I better not wake up to blond mess here sneaking onto that matress with R.”

Combeferre laughs. “Yeah, that I cannot promise.”

\--

Grantaire is tired of pretending to be asleep.

With their combined efforts, Combeferre and Éponine had manage to drag Enjolras to his room and nudge Grantaire to lay on the air mattress they placed beside the couch. It’s not exactly uncomfortable. It’s soft enough and he has a pillow and a nice blanket. But he is hungry and still wearing skinny jeans and it’s hard to relax with all that tension in the air.

Combeferre and Éponine have been sitting together on the couch for what seems like eternity, talking in low voices that Grantaire is trying very hard to tune out. He doesn’t want to announce he is awake and break the magic. He isn’t sure if all this late night talking is going to make any difference in the grand scheme of things, but he wonders if Enjolras is proud of his plan.

He turns in his false-sleep and suddenly there is silence.

“We should let him sleep…” Éponine says. “Let’s go to the balcony?”

“It’s probably very cold.”

Grantaire feels someone walk past him and hears the balcony door sliding open. Freezing air slips in and the door is immediately shut again. There’s a moment of silence.

“I don’t want to stop talking yet.”

Éponine’s voice is so small Grantaire is not sure Combeferre could have heard her. He feels something tighten inside his chest. He would pretend to be asleep all night if he didn’t have to hear her sound like that.

He hears Combeferre stand up. “We can go into my room.” Éponine must have made a suggestive face, because he laughs and adds quickly: “That’s not—”

“I know, Ferre,” she cuts him off, and Grantaire can hear the eye-roll in her voice.

Grantaire waits for them to be gone before sitting up and stretching. He is about to get up and raid the fridge when he hears a door being open. He lays back down quickly.

“R?”

He sits up again and Enjolras is standing by his feet, wearing grey pajama pants and a white shirt that is too big for him. He can’t see much of his face in the dark.

“Are you hungry?” Enjolras whispers in a conspiratory tone.

“Starving,” Grantaire says, getting to his feet and following Enjolras to the kitchen.

Enjolras hands him a tray and starts piling things up on it; a box of strawberries, a bag of chips, some mini muffins, a carton of chocolate milk. Standing in the middle of Enjolras’ kitchen in the middle of the night, quietly watching as he prepares food fir both of them, is making something excited and giddy jump around in Grantaire’s chest.

When he’s done he takes two glasses from the cupboard over the sink and touches Grantaire’s shoulder lightly, guiding him out of the kitchen. Grantaire starts making his way to the living room, but Enjolras stops him.

“They will hear us there. Come on,” he whispers and walks towards his own bedroom. Grantaire freezes for a moment before forcing his legs to follow.

He has been inside Enjolras’ bedroom before, with the simple white furniture, the cork boards full of photographs (who prints out photographs?) and the absolute mess of clothes and notebooks and pieces of paper. But he’s never been there alone with him. Enjolras takes the tray from his hands and puts it down on his bed. Then he seems to really look at Grantaire for the first time since they arrived at the apartment. He blinks.

“Shit, sorry, R! I’m a terrible host!”

“Uh,” is all Grantaire manages as Enjolras starts digging into a chest of drawers and emerges with a pair of soft looking pants and a t-shirt, pushing them into Grantaire’s arms.

“I’m pretty sure these pants are Ferre’s, they’ll fit you.”

Grantaire remembers how to breathe for long enough to say thanks, and quietly makes his way to the bathroom, where he changes, splashes water on his face and definitely does not think about how this t-shirt smells like Enjolras.

Back in the bedroom, Grantaire almost chokes at the sight of Enjolras taking a bite of a strawberry.

Enjolras gestures for him to sit down and Grantaire mimics his position, his back against the wall and feet dangling over the edge of Enjolras’ bed, with the tray of food between them. Enjolras passes him a glass of chocolate milk.

“Happy?” Grantaire asks after they have been eating in silence for a few minutes.

Enjolras smiles hesitantly. “Like you said, we probably didn’t do much.” He shrugs, biting into another strawberry in a way that makes Grantaire’s chest clench. “But who knows, maybe spending more time together will help.”

“Who knows.”

“Thank you,” he adds earnestly after a few moments. “For doing this with me.” Another pause and then: “Now, can we review your arguments about Feuilly being a Slytherin?”

\--

Combeferre and Éponine are holding hands. In his bedroom. On his bed.

He doesn’t know exactly how that happened and he is too scared to move, because then the Universe might realize he is getting away with it and take it away.

He had just found out that Éponine had skipped the first season of the reboot of Doctor Who because Cosette had told her it wasn’t as good.

He is gonna have to have a very serious talk with Cosette.

Now they are sitting side by side on Combeferre’s bed, a pillow across their laps and his laptop on top of it, four episodes into season one. They started holding hands at some point around the second episode. By the middle of the third Éponine had laid her head on his shoulder.

She agrees an injustice was done against Nine. Her fingers are long and her skin is soft and his own hand feel big and clumsy on hers. She starts playing with their entwined fingers with her other hand and a shiver runs through Combeferre’s body. He rests his head against hers.

When the episode is over, neither of them move to stop it from skipping to the next.

\--

Grantaire doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He wakes up sore and disoriented late in the morning and the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Enjolras’ face, still asleep.

The events of the previous night wash over him in a wave of panic. He remembers they weren’t actually drunk. That’s good.

He and Enjolras are lying in an awkward diagonal on Enjolras’ bed, their heads facing different sides and the tray still between them. Despite that, somehow their legs ended up tangled.

There is a blanket over him, which means Enjolras must have put it there. And he didn’t wake Grantaire to get him to leave. He blinks to will the thought away.

He moves very slowly and very carefully, pulling his ankles out from under Enjolras’. He gets up and picks up the tray. Enjolras doesn’t stir. Grantaire opens the door and silently steps out of the room, where he feels like he can finally breathe.

Éponine isn’t anywhere to be seen, but her jacket and shoes are still in the living room where she left them. He smirks when he notices Combeferre’s closed door.

Grantaire makes coffee, hoping it won’t wake anyone. He drinks a cup and fills a thermos he found in a cupboard with the disgusting concoction of cream, sugar and not enough coffee which is how Enjolras likes it. Because of course he knows how Enjolras takes his coffee, he is pathetic like that.

He leaves the thermos on Enjolras’ side table, and the borrowed pajamas folded over his chair. He frowns at a post-it for several moments, before drawing a smiley face and sticking it to the thermos.

He almost doesn’t resist brushing a stray curl away from Enjolras’ forehead.

He makes a fresh pot of coffee and leaves it for Éponine and Combeferre, with a winky face on a different post-it stuck to it. Normally he would wait for Éponine so they could go home together, but he doesn’t want to be in the way of whatever happened between her and Combeferre.

He also doesn’t think he can deal with the sight of a soft and sleepy Enjolras when he wakes up. He puts his shoes on and leaves quietly.

\--

Later in the afternoon, Grantaire gets a text from Enjolras and a slow smile spreads across his face.

 **Fearless Leader** : Thanks for the coffee!  
**R** : Np! Did I make it right?  
**Fearless Leader:** Yes, it’s perfect!  
**R** : :)  
**R** : ponine still there?  
**Fearless Leader:** She just left  
**Fearless Leader:** Ferre just asked to talk to me  
**Fearless Leader:** I’m scared  
**R** : They know!!  
**R** : It was good knowing u  
**Fearless Leader:** I might survive, but you have Éponine to deal with  
**R** : …  
**R** : Tell Jehan to take care of my cactus

\--

Grantaire is sitting cross-legged on his bed, trying to study, when he hears Éponine’s key in the door. He contemplates pretending to be asleep again.

She leans on the doorframe of his bedroom, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, studying him for a moment.

“Hungover?” she asks, raising one perfect eyebrow.

Grantaire grins slowly and he can tell she is making an effort not to smile. She walks towards his bed and punches him hard on the shoulder before dropping beside him, hugging him by the neck.

“You are such an asshole.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, putting his arms around her. “In my defense, it was Enjolras’ idea.”

“We thought so,” she lets go of him and leans back, looking incredibly smug.

Grantaire wiggles his eyebrows at her. “So?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what it looks like, but we were just watching stuff and fell asleep.” She massages her neck with one hand. “You know, falling asleep together might seem cute in theory but it’s actually kind of uncomfortable.”

“Tell me about it,” he mutters, his own neck still stiff from the position he spent the night in.

She raises one eyebrow at him, then looks away. “We have a date,” she says.

“No way!”

Éponine smiles and he tackles her by the waist, throwing them both down on the bed. She laughs and doesn’t even struggle, settling comfortably against him. Éponine hasn’t always been so easy on physical contact, but this is the kind of thing that comes with being around so many over affectionate people.

“When?”

“Tuesday,” she says.

“A Date date?” He asks curiously, resting his chin on one hand to look at her properly.

“I guess?” She gives him a smug look. “Before I left I told him we should go out for coffee sometime. He asked if as a date and I said sure.”

She is blushing bright red by the time she’s done, but she looks so happy.

“I’m so proud of you,” he grins.

She sighs. “I guess if I waited for him I would have to wait forever,” she says rolling her eyes, but with so much fondness in her voice. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Grantaire frowns suspiciously.

“Enjolras was all dreamy when he woke up...”

“Shut up, Ep,” he turns his back to her, facing the wall.

She pokes him in the ribs. “He said that was the best coffee he’s ever had.”

Grantaire groans, swatting her hand away but smiling reluctantly.

Éponine ruffles his hair, before getting up to leave his room. Grantaire’s phone buzzes as soon as he is alone, with another text from Enjolras.

 **Fearless Leader:** R!!!  
**R** : :D  
**Fearless Leader:** WE DID IT!!  
**R** : WE FUCKING DID  
**Fearless Leader:** AND YOU DIDN’T BELIEVE IN MY PLAN  
**R** : You didn’t believe in it either!  
**R** : But I believed in you ;)

\--

Combeferre can’t focus.

He has been trying to read an article for one of his classes for what seems like hours, but keeps losing track, reading the same sentence over and over.

He has a _date_.

Every time he thinks about it he loses track of the reading and one of his legs starts to involuntarily bounce up and down. He lets go of his pen and reclines in his chair, letting his head fall back and looking up at the ceiling with a smile. Apparently he is just not getting anything done until then.

He doesn’t notice when Enjolras appears on the doorway, holding two cups of tea.

“Courf is on his way,”  Enjolras says, and in his surprise Combeferre raises his head too quickly, getting dizzy for a second.

He accepts the cup Enjolras is holding out for him. “Any reason in particular?”

“Because you are nervous and I’m of no help with these kinds of situations,” Enjolras answer matter-of- factly, leaning on Combeferre’s desk. Then he smiles “Besides, you want to tell him, right?”

“Yeah,” Combeferre smiles crookedly. “Thanks, Enj.”

Enjolras just smiles and pushes himself away from the table, leaving Combeferre alone. When he’s all the way in his bedroom Combeferre shoots: “Hey, maybe Courf can help you out too!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” comes the too quick reply from the next room.

Combeferre grins and sips on his tea.

\--

Courfeyrac blinks a few times, looking back and forth between Combeferre and Enjolras. He is leaning forward in the armchair across from where they are sitting on the couch, a half forgotten mug of hot chocolate in his hands.

“There is just so much!” he says finally, with wonder in his voice.

He takes a long, dramatic sip from his cup then gives Combeferre a smug look.

“First of all, Marius told me about your date this morning. I just lacked details.”

All eyes turn to Marius, who shrinks on his spot on the couch, beside Enjolras, where he had been sitting silently and mostly unnoticed until now.

“I’m sorry!” he says quickly. “Ponine texted me this morning and I got excited, I didn’t think…”

Combeferre rolls his eyes, but he feels warmth spread through his face at the thought of Éponine telling people that she has a date with him.

“That’s fine, love,” Courfeyrac says, winking at Marius. Then he looks back and Combeferre. “So, what are you two doing?”

“I don’t know yet. Out for coffee?” Combeferre answers with a grimace. “Honestly I’d much rather get takeout and watch a movie than going anywhere but-”

“Ponine would like that, I think,” Marius says.

“Yeah?” Combeferre looks at him full of hope.

“You can always suggest it,” Courfeyrac shrugs. “I mean, it would be the lamest date ever, but you do you.”

Combeferre glares at Courfeyrac and he smiles. “I’m joking! Just ask her!”

“I guess,” Combeferre sighs, leaning back on the couch.

“R says he’s sure Éponine would like that,” Enjolras says. He has been typing on his phone the whole time, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh,” Combeferre says. “Great! Tell him I say thanks.”

Enjolras types. The answer comes almost instantly.

“He says ‘don’t mess it up’.”

Combeferre chuckles nervously. “I’ll certainly try.”

“Well, that brings us to topic number two,” Courfeyrac says, turning to Enjolras.

Enjolras startles and lets his phone down slowly when he notices the three pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“Which is…?” he asks, eyeing the three of them distrustfully.

“Why did you ask for R’s help?” Courfeyrac asks. “I mean, you could have asked me.”

“Uh, because he is Éponine’s roommate? I thought he could have, I don’t know, insight?” Enjolras answers. His expression and tone are neutral, but his face is getting slightly redder with each word. “And I knew we would end up in one of our apartments if we did it right.”

“That,” Courfeyrac points out, thoughtfully, “is actually not a terrible excuse. But is it the only reason?”

He and Enjolras start a sort of staring contest, Courfeyrac’s eyebrows drawing up in that way that makes it seem like they are going to disappear under his curls. His bet would usually be on Enjolras to win any staring contest, but he is visibly red now.

“What?” he finally snaps.

Courfeyrac sighs. “Fine, I won’t push it.”

“There’s nothing to be pushed,” Enjolras grumbles, turning his attention back to his phone.

“Maybe you should take R out for coffee too, or something,” Marius says matter-of-factly, blowing on his tea. “You know, to thank him for his help.”

 _Smooth_. Courfeyrac makes an adoring, startled sound and Combeferre shoots him a warning glance.

“It’s only polite,” he adds, pushing his glasses up as an excuse to hide his grin in case Enjolras is looking at him.

Enjolras just stares at Marius, who is beginning to fidget under the intense gaze, and for a moment Combeferre fears Enjolras is going to snap at him. But he just glances at Combeferre then looks back down at his phone.

“Maybe I should.”

\--

Éponine leaves early on Tuesday and Grantaire doesn’t see her for the entire day. He comes home late in the afternoon and finds a note stuck to the fridge with a magnet, letting him know she’s already left to meet with Combeferre. He texts her:

 **R** : I won’t wait up ;)  
**R** : Good luck!

When he is trying to will himself into working on an essay he has due the next day, or doing the dishes, he gets a call from Enjolras.

Who still calls people?

He swipes to take the call.

“Hey!”

“Hey, R, um, I was thinking… sorry, are you busy?” comes Enjolras’ rushed voice.

“Not particularly. Something wrong?” Grantaire starts pacing absentmindedly around the living room.

“Uh, no… it’s just, Ferre and Éponine are coming here to watch a movie and I don’t want to get in their way…”

“Oh. Do you want to go somewhere?” Grantaire winces at how hopeful his own voice sounds.

The answer takes a while to come. Grantaire considers throwing his phone across the room.

“Do you want to get coffee?” Enjolras asks, finally. “There’s a new place I have been meaning to try…”

Grantaire breathes, trying to conceal the excitement in his voice. “Sure. Text me the address?”

They hang up. Enjolras texts him the address and they agree to meet there in twenty minutes. It’s right between both of their buildings, and he knows Enjolras must have considered that.

Enjolras could have called anyone else.

He tries not to think too much about that.

\--

Éponine had seemed pleased when Combeferre made the suggestion of getting take out and watching a movie. She is waiting for him when he is done with his shift in the book shop, browsing the children’s literature section.

“Need help finding anything, ma’am?” he asks in his best customer service tone when she doesn’t hear him approaching.

She startles before turning to him with a grin. “Yes, a certain dork seems to have stood me up, can you help me find him?”

He walks towards her with feigned indifference, trying his best to keep a neutral expression and seeing that the corners of her mouth are twitching as she does the same thing.

“He sounds like a jerk, what did you see in him?”

“Oh I don’t know. He is kinda hot, in a sexy librarian kind of way…”

Combeferre snorts and she starts laughing.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yeah. I’m not really late, am I?”

She laughs again as they start walking towards the door. “No, I came in earlier. Needed some ideas for Gav’s birthday present.”

He brushes his hand against hers, in a way that could pass as accidental. His heart races when she tangles her fingers with his.

“Come over while I’m in and I’ll give you my discount, if you decide to buy him something.”

She raises one eyebrow at him. “Are you supposed to do that?”

“Not officially, no,” he shrugs. “But books shouldn’t be as expensive as they are. Let’s just say I’m helping with the dissemination of knowledge.”

“Even if it’s a book about pirates?” she smirks.

“Especially if it’s about pirates.”

Well, in that case I will,” she looks up at him smiling. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. So, how do you feel about curry?”

\--

When Grantaire arrives at the coffee shop, he wonders if Enjolras appears like a beacon of light in the middle on a dark room to everyone or if it’s just him.

The place isn’t big. It has large windows, small round tables scattered around and dark leather couches and armchairs in one corner. It feels cozy, and the smell of freshly ground coffee fills the air.

All of this comes in second to Enjolras sitting at one of the tables, his chin resting on one hand and a book open in front of him. The remains of bright yellow daylight coming through a window behind him catches on his hair just right, forming a kind of halo. This, Grantaire thinks, is some damn nice photographic work courtesy of whichever deity is trying to fuck with him today.

Enjolras smiles when Grantaire approaches the table, draping his jacket over a chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?”

Enjolras grins and lifts the book so Grantaire can see the cover. The Prisoner of Azkaban. Grantaire chuckles.

“Seriously? What is this, research?”

“We talked about it so much I missed it!” Enjolras shrugs, placing a bookmark between the pages and closing the book. “Wanna go order something?”

Grantaire follows him to the counter. Enjolras orders his usual mix of too many sweet things and not enough coffee. Grantaire orders black. He gets his large, steamy mug right away. Enjolras has to wait, so they stand to the side.

“Did you read the first two books that fast?” Grantaire frowns, blowing at his coffee.

“Hum, no,” Enjolras seems embarrassed for a moment. He smiles a little. “You said Prisoner of Azkaban was your favorite, so I just started from there. It’s been a long time.”

Grantaire’s heart jumps with a happy jolt that he is quick to turn off, but it’s too late. It’s awake now. He smirks.

“Which one is your favorite? Oh, wait, don’t tell me. It’s Order of the Phoenix!

Enjolras beams. “What gave it away?” He walks to the counter to get his coffee and they go back to the table.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something about the illegal student group meeting in secret to plot against fascists.”

Enjolras is smiling brightly at him, and both the smile and the sun shining on his hair now that they are back on the table, are almost blinding. Also, their knees are touching under the table which is just unfair to Grantaire’s heart.

“You have to admit,” Enjolras says, stirring his coffee slowly with a spoon. “Fred and George escaping the school is one of the best scenes in the entire series.”

“Good point,” is all Grantaire manages, because he is too busy staring at Enjolras licking the cream off his spoon. Grantaire sips on his coffee to hide the blush he knows is probably very obvious.

\--

Combeferre and Éponine arrive to the apartment and find it empty. Enjolras had texted Combeferre earlier to let him know he was going out, so this isn’t a surprise. He feels guilty that Enjolras had felt the need to leave, but grateful.

“What are we watching?” Éponine asks, unpacking the food they picked up on the way, while Combeferre opens a bottle of wine.

 _Chardonnay_. Because he did his reading and apparently it pairs up with curry. He has a bottle of wine in stock for every option of food they could have chosen.

“I was thinking the Terry Pratchett Discworld movies. Unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s great!” she beams at him, walking to the living room with the bowls of food. “I’ve only seen The Color of Magic.”

“Discworld it is!” he says, setting up the movie.

They eat mostly in silence, their knees pressed together as they rest bowls and glasses on the coffee table. After they are done, as if  arriving to a common, wordless agreement, they lean against each other. He puts his arm around her and she plays with the fingers of his other hand. It’s nice. It’s _so_ nice. He just doesn’t know where to go from there.

They watch all of Hogfather and when it’s done Combeferre feels his head spin from the pressure of having to make a move.

Éponine stretches and pushes herself up from the couch.

“I should get going, I have an early class tomorrow.”

Oh.

He stands up slowly, mournfully.

“Okay… uh, I hope you had… fun?”

She smiles and steps into his space, kissing him on the cheek. He is desperately trying to finding something else to say.

“Let’s do this again sometime. We still have to watch Going Postal,” she says.

“Yes. Definitely.”

She gathers her things, puts on her shoes. He opens the door and she gives him a final wave before making for the stairs.

He closes the door and rests his head against the wooden frame for a moment, replaying the entirety of the last few hours in his head, trying to decide if he has done something wrong. He is sure he must have messed something up.

He sighs and moves to start cleaning the bowls off the coffee table when there’s a knock on the door.

Combeferre startles. For a delirious second he imagines it’s Courfeyrac, summoned by the force of Combeferre’s distress to both shame and comfort him.

Éponine is standing outside when he opens the door.

He stares at her in silence for a moment, then she kisses him.

It’s quick, just a brief touch of their lips. He doesn’t have time to react. When she pulls back, she doesn’t go too far. She winces slightly, but there’s the hint of a smile there too.

“I should probably have asked. I -”

He bows his head and kisses her back. Her hands find their way to the back of his neck and he deepens the kiss when her fingers run through his short hair. He wraps his arms around her waist. She is almost as tall as he is, but feels small and warm in his arms.

He pulls them both a step back to close the door and he feels Éponine smile against his lips. Once the door is closed, she backs away slowly until she’s leaning against it, pulling along him by his sweater.

He starts to unwrap her scarf, slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him. When she doesn’t, he kisses down her neck. Her breath picks up and she digs her fingers in his hips. He feels shivers run up his spine when her fingers find their way under his sweater, brushing at his waist.

He fumbles with the zipper of her jacket but her hands are quick to come and help. She unzips it but doesn’t take it off. She gives him a strange look.

“Sorry I panicked,” she mutters.

Combeferre shakes his head, putting one hand on the side of her neck and stroking her jaw.

“I’m glad you came back.”

She smirks. “Yeah?”

She is kissing him again before he can answer.

\--

Grantaire isn’t entirely convinced he hasn’t been thrown into an alternative universe where he and Enjolras go out for coffee and talk for hours, sitting at a very small table with their knees pressed together under it.

They get hungry, eventually. Grantaire makes a mental note that the new coffee shop serves damn good sandwiches. And also that Enjolras likes tuna, but not olives, because his stupid brain seems to think that this is relevant information.

They share a tiramisu, and there’s something about their forks accidentally bumping into each other, or playfully trying to drop what’s on the other’s fork, that is doing stupid things to Grantaire’s heart. They don’t notice it’s getting late and that there’s only a couple of other customers left.

“Enjolras, even if the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t have it! I refuse to be in the house that has to answer a fucking riddle to be able to go to bed.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Okay, look. I’ll let you be a Hufflepuff just because that would make us roommates.”

Grantaire opens his mouth to point out that no, because Enjolras is a Slytherin, dammit, but swallows the words. He can live with this. Enjolras smiles triumphantly and Grantaire is happy to let him win this one.

“We wouldn’t be roommates though, I’m older than you,” Grantaire grumbles, just because he has to disagree.

Enjolras gives him an exasperated look and Grantaire snorts.

“Fine, I’ll let you visit me in the older boys’ room.”

“We will meet in the Common Room anyway, but I appreciate it.”

They smile at each other and a strange silence hangs in the air for a moment.

Grantaire’s phone buzzes. He looks at it and grins.

“Apparently Ep is not coming home tonight.”

Enjolras smiles, but then his face falls just as quickly. “Oh no.”

“Thin walls?” Grantaire raises his eyebrows.

Enjolras snorts and rubs his eyes with his hands. “We didn’t think this through!”

“Abort mission!”

Enjolras laughs. The barista approaches their table to let them know they are about to close.

Grantaire looks around in disbelief.

“I didn’t realize it was so late,” Enjolras says wide-eyed, mirroring Grantaire’s own thoughts.

They get up to leave and, once they are outside, Grantaire takes a deep breath.

“You can come over to my place if you want.”

Enjolras stills and just looks at him. Well, it’s too late to take it back now.

Grantaire waits.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a-”

“Come on,” he shrugs and walks a couple of steps away from Enjolras. “Give them some privacy.”

Enjolras nods. “Yeah.” He starts to follow. “Yeah, okay.”

\--

“Look, I know I invited you over,” Grantaire says once they reach his and Éponine’s apartment, taking off his shoes by the door. “ But I really have to finish writing this essay, so…”

“That’s fine!” Enjolras says quickly, hanging his jacket on one of the hooks behind the door. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You can borrow Ep’s laptop if you like...”

“I have Harry Potter,” Enjolras smiles, waving the book in his hand and walking towards the couch.

“Right.”

Grantaire sits down with his laptop on the opposite end of the couch where Enjolras is sprawled against the armrest. He starts typing, but finds it terribly difficult to focus on his work with Enjolras occupying the same space, his long legs stretched almost far enough to reach him.

“I asked if you were busy,” Enjolras says accusingly after a few minutes. He is frowning when Grantaire looks at him.

“What?”

“When I called you, I asked if you were busy. You didn’t say you had an essay to write.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Against all odds, I happen to find you more interesting than my dumb essay. Just a little though.”

As if Grantaire wouldn’t drop almost anything to be with him.

Enjolras makes a disgruntled sound, but Grantaire catches his smile just before his face disappears behind the book.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras mutters.

“Don’t be.”

Every once in a while, Grantaire looks up from the screen and asks Enjolras where in the book he is and Enjolras reads one or two paragraphs out loud to him. He has such a nice reading voice, much better than this stupid essay on the Rouen Cathedral. Enjolras keeps slouching more and more until he is lying with his head on the armrest, knees bent and his feet resting against Grantaire’s thigh. He is wearing red socks, because of course he is. Grantaire places one hand on his ankle and leaves it there.

Eventually, Enjolras gets up and makes them tea, then goes back to the same position as before, his toes tucked under Grantaire’s thigh.

Finally, Grantaire saves the file and closes his laptop with a triumphant noise.

“Congratulations,” Enjolras says quietly, poking Grantaire on the shoulder with his foot.

Grantaire places his laptop not too carefully on the coffee table and lets himself fall to the side on the couch. Enjolras shifts to give him space, but doesn’t leave. By the time Grantaire’s tired brain realizes that he has just laid down beside Enjolras, his shoulder pressed to his legs, and he is about to sit back up, he feels Enjolras’ hand on his hair.

Grantaire sighs and lets his eyes fall shut. Enjolras starts reading.

“No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was being searched again and the whole house stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn…”

Between the sound of Enjolras’ voice and his hand stroking his hair, Grantaire doesn’t exactly fall asleep, but he isn’t awake either. It’s just that there isn’t enough space in his brain to process much else. There is a small part of it sending red signals and blaring sirens telling him he should get as far away from that couch as he can. The rest of him never wants to move ever again.

Enjolras reads the whole chapter and keeps playing with his hair.

“...I just thought you ought to know… Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.”

“Fascists!” Grantaire mumbles. He props himself up on one elbow to look at Enjolras. “I should let you sleep.”

“I thought _you_ were sleeping,” Enjolras says, smiling a little as he sits up.

“No… I was listening.”

They look at each other and the air in the room feels heavy. Grantaire clears his throat and goes fetch some pillows and a quilt.

\--

Combeferre wakes up at dawn. His bed feels warmer than usual and strangely crowded.

He smiles, his eyes still closed. He had been sure he would wake up and Éponine would be gone. Well, it’s early and she still has plenty of time to sneak out. But, at least for now, she’s still here.

He gets out of the bed as quietly as he can and walks to the bathroom, the first signs of sunlight sneaking through the apartment.

When he gets back under the covers, Éponine stirs. She turns and shifts closer to him, throwing one arm over his chest.

“Where’d you go?” she mumbles, not quite awake.

“Nowhere.”

\--

When the alarm goes off, Combeferre does wake up to an empty bed.

He doesn’t have too long to grieve, because the door opens and Éponine walks in, already fully dressed. He sits up wishing he was at least wearing a shirt.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, but I heard the alarm,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

He extends his hand and she takes it.

“Do you have to leave?”

“I have a class, I need to go home and change.”

She hesitates, then leans in and gives him a quick kiss on the lips. He smiles.

“I made coffee,” she says, standing up. “I was going in to leave you a note,” she sticks a post-it to his forehead. He laughs but doesn’t take it off.

“We should… do this again,” he says hesitantly.

She grins. “Which part?”

“All of it,” he laughs, feeling his cheeks burn.

Her grin softens into a smile and she reaches out to hold his face between her hands. The kiss is a little longer this time.

“Bye,” she says softly after pulling away. “Text me later?”

“Of course.”

\--

Grantaire is _not_ watching Enjolras sleep.

It’s not his fault that the lump on his couch is directly in the line of sight of where he is sitting at the table, sipping on his coffee. Really, all he can see of Enjolras is a tangle of blond hair poking out from one end of the quilt and a red sock from the other.

The lump stirs when the alarm on his phone goes off, and an arm emerges from within the folds to grab it.

Enjolras sits up and oh my god Grantaire was not prepared for that glorious bedhead. There are curls sticking up in every direction, apparently oblivious to the laws of gravity.

“Good morning,” he calls out from the table.

Enjolras looks at him, blinking with his eyebrows drawn together. He rubs his eyes and falls back on the couch, pulling the covers over his head.

Grantaire laughs. “Don’t you have a class?”

An angry moan comes from under the quilt.

That’s the most endearing shit Grantaire has ever seen. He kind of wants to cry.

That’s when the door to the apartment flies open and Éponine walks in.

“Good morning, loser!” she exclaims, hanging her jacket and scarf behind the door.

“Someone has a spring to her step,” Grantaire sniggers.

“Fuck off,” she says, smiling brightly. “Is that Enj?”

There’s a low groan from the lump on the couch.

“You are going to be late, get up! I need a shower.”

“I bet you do,” Grantaire grins. “Want breakfast?”

“I’ll love you forever!”

“Toast and eggs?”

“Yes, please!” she yells from the bathroom, the water already running from the shower.

“Enj?”

Enjolras sits up again, seeming slightly more determined to stay awake this time. He looks at Grantaire questioningly.

“Toast and eggs?”

He nods with a tired smile. “Thanks.”

“Coffee?”

“Please!” Enjolras groans, finally standing up and stretching.

Grantaire definitely does not look at how his shirt draws up, exposing part of his stomach.

\--

“I’m sorry you felt that you had to leave last night,” Combeferre says, leaning at the door to Enjolras’ room.

He’s just had a long day of classes and work, but he’s so happy he is barely bothered by it. Enjolras grins at him from his bed, where he is laying with a book. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Combeferre’s favorite.

“I don’t think you are sorry at all,” Enjolras says warmly, sitting up and gesturing from him to come in.

Combeferre smiles guiltily and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Enjolras says. He raises his eyebrows. “How did it go?”

Combeferre smiles. “Well,” he says, flipping through the pages of the book just so he doesn’t have to look at him. “I think it went well.”

“Shall I call Éponine ‘mom’ now?” Enjolras deadpans.

Combeferre laughs. “I thought _I_ was mom.”

“Are you implying I can’t have two moms?”

“Fair enough,” Combeferre answers, still laughing. “And no. I don’t know.”

Enjolras hums. “She seemed happy this morning,” he says, thoughtfully. “She didn’t even yell at the asshole who makes misogynistic comments in our class, she spoke calmly! It was scary.”

Combeferre knows he must have the most stupid grin on his face. He tries to derail the conversation.

“How was it with R?”

“Fine,” Enjolras shrugs, and it’s his time to avoid to Combeferre’s eyes.

“Just fine?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “We had coffee. It was nice. I had a good time.”

Combeferre is too happy tonight to dance around the whole Enjolras and Grantaire thing, like everyone usually does. He is feeling bold. Even enough to risk getting one of his roommate’s notorious angry glares.

“He likes you too, you know?”

Enjolras does glare at him, and opens his mouth like he is going to say something. Then closes it again. He lowers his eyes and fiddles with the bedsheet. Combeferre braces himself.

“What makes you say that?” he mumbles, frowning.

Holy shit, Combeferre thinks. This is the most anyone has ever gotten out of Enjolras on the subject.

“I’ve known you both for some time.”

Enjolras looks at him and raises one eyebrow, but his cheeks are getting flushed.

“Maybe you have your pink goggles on today.”

Combeferre sighs. Well, he’s not wrong.

“Just think about it, yeah?” he says, standing up. Enjolras doesn’t answer.

Once he’s safe in his own room, Combeferre texts Éponine.

 **Ferre** : Please, tell me R likes Enjolras back  
**Éponine** : wHY are you asking me this??  
**Éponine** : I mean duh but why?  
**Ferre** : Enj and I just had an interesting conversation  
**Éponine** : Oh??  
**Ferre** : Tell you all about it tomorrow over lunch? :)  
**Éponine** : Smooth ;)  
**Éponine** : Okay  
**Ferre** : :))

\--

It becomes a thing. Whenever Combeferre and Éponine have a date, Enjolras and Grantaire hang out.

At first it was just when they were meeting in one of their apartments, over the pretense of giving them space. But over the weeks, if Éponine and Combeferre were going out, Enjolras and Grantaire would either tag along or hang out by themselves.

Grantaire doesn’t know when being around Enjolras stopped being exhausting, like electricity constantly running through his body just to leave him drained afterwards. Now it’s more like warmth lingering on his skin after spending time under the sun. Even when they argue it’s more smiles and actually listening to each other than real anger.

Les Amis de l’ABC usually hold meetings on Thursdays at the Café Musain, and Grantaire is always there. Except, this particular Thursday, he got caught up with work and had to skip it. There was simply no way around it, even though the meetings are usually the highlight of his week.

It’s late. Way past the time the meeting usually runs. Éponine hasn’t come home yet and Grantaire just assumes she went to Combeferre’s. He had meant to just have a snack before going to bed, but ended up cooking spaghetti. He even made his own pesto.

When he is cleaning up and getting ready to eat, there’s an unexpected knock on the door. He frowns. Maybe Éponine forgot her keys.

“Coming!” he yells, drying his hands on a dishcloth and marching towards the door.

When he opens it, Enjolras is standing on the other side, looking cross.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, stepping aside so Enjolras can come in.

Enjolras takes a small step inside, not enough that Grantaire can close the door.

“Nothing,” he says, frowning. “You weren’t at the meeting today.”

That’s… weird. Does Enjolras take attendance and hunt down the absentees now?

“Uh no, I was really busy. I asked Éponine-”

“I know, she told us,” Enjolras dismisses him with a wave of his hand. He is not looking Grantaire in the eyes.

“Then what…?”

Enjolras just stands by the door, his shoulders tense and his jaw set. After what seems like an eternity, he sighs.

“I should just go…”

He doesn’t move.

Everyone jokes about how much like a cat Enjolras is. Right now, he does resemble a frightened yellow cat, backing away towards a corner.

Grantaire is good with cats.

“I just made spaghetti,” he says.

Enjolras finally meets his eyes. “What?”

“Come on, I’ll make you a plate,” he turns his back to Enjolras and walks towards the kitchen. Enjolras hesitates for a moment, but closes the door and follows.

They eat in silence, side by side on the couch. Enjolras seems to be getting less tense. At least it doesn’t feel like he is vibrating with concentrated energy anymore. By the end he just looks tired. Grantaire waits for him to talk.

“This is really good,” Enjolras says, around his last bite.

“Thanks.”

They put their empty plates aside and Grantaire waits.

“You must think I’m completely crazy,” Enjolras says, glancing at Grantaire and almost smiling.

“A little, yeah,” Grantaire answers, trying to keep the tone cheerful while his chest feels tight.

“I just-” he begins, but seems to lose his train of thought. He is frowning again. Grantaire wants to reach and smooth away the line between his eyebrows. “I missed you.”

“What?”

His tone is harsher than he meant. He winces when Enjolras’ shoulders tense up. His eyes are set intently on the empty plate in front of him. It might catch on fire at any second now.

“I was looking forward to seeing you today, I guess,” he says. “I don’t know why I came here…”

“I’m glad you did,” Grantaire says quietly. He almost takes Enjolras’ hand, clenched on the seat between them.

Wait for cat to initiate contact.

Enjolras glances at him. The corners of his mouth twist in the tiniest smile, which Grantaire could have missed if he weren’t hoping for it.

“I missed you too,” he adds. It tastes like a confession.

Enjolras smiles at his plate.

“I should get going.”

“You can stay if you want,” Grantaire says, standing up to take their plates to the kitchen. “You know the couch is yours.”

Enjolras doesn’t move, so Grantaire fetches the pillows and quilt he has already started to think of as Enjolras’. He even has a toothbrush there, for Christ’s sake.

He throws the quilt over Enjolras’ head, since he hasn’t moved yet, finally managing to make him laugh. He picks up his laptop and sits beside Enjolras.

“Wanna watch something?”

“Sure,” Enjolras answers quietly, wrapping himself in the quilt and leaning back against  a pillow.

“Harry Potter? Where did we stop?”

Enjolras chuckles. “Okay. Half-blood Prince, I think.”

Grantaire and Éponine have never bothered to buy a TV. Grantaire balances the laptop on both his and Enjolras’ knees and leans back, crossing his arms. They have watched movies like this before, but it’s always a little awkward.

A few minutes in, Enjolras holds the laptop to keep it stable and slides down and to the side until he is leaning against Grantaire, his head on his shoulder. Grantaire pretends his heart is not about to burst from his chest when he leans his cheek over the top of Enjolras’ head.

They are both asleep before Ron can ingest that Love Potion.

\--

One evening, Grantaire is reading on his bed when Éponine comes home. She storms into his bedroom and falls next to him, her face on the pillow.

“‘Sup?” Grantaire asks, closing the book. He can tell something is wrong.

She wriggles closer and throws her arm around his waist. That bad huh?, he thinks.

He turns to the side and strokes her hair hesitantly. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“I’m complete human garbage, that’s what happened,” comes her muffled answer.

“There’s only one place for human garbage in this household and it’s already taken,” he says. She pinches him on the side, but doesn’t comment or raise her head. He abandons the mocking tone. “Come on, Ép.”

She turns her head away from the pillow, but doesn’t look at him. She looks both angry and like she’s about to start crying.

“He told me he loves me,” she says.

Shit. Grantaire does not feel equipped to deal with this.

“Okay… is that a bad thing?”

“I didn’t say it back.”

“You don’t have to, though.”

“But I do,” she says slowly, like the words are heavy in her mouth. “Why can’t I just say it?”

He continues to stroke her hair and she moves closer to him, her grip hard on his shirt.

“He actually told me he didn’t expect me to say it back!” she adds angrily. “ Like, he knew I wasn’t going to!”

That’s it, he is definitely not dealing with this by himself. He takes his phone out.

“What are you doing?” she mutters.

“I’m texting Cosette.”

She groans. “You are telling my sister on me?”

“Yep,” he says, putting his phone away when he gets an answer from Cosette. “She’s on her way.”

“You are the worst,” she hides her face on the pillow again, but actually sounds grateful. “Tell me something stupid until she’s here.”

“Told you I’m the human garbage,” he says, reaching over her for his guitar, balanced precariously upright between the bed and the wall. “I’ll sing you a song.”

\--

Cosette doesn’t bother to knock, but they hear it when the door opens and someone walks in.

“We’re in here!” Grantaire yells. He and Éponine have barely moved from their position on his bed for the past half hour.

“I brought croissants!” Cosette calls from the door. She smiles when she walks into Grantaire’s bedroom and takes in the scene. “Oh good, we’re having a cuddling session! Scoot.”

Éponine groans when Grantaire moves further towards the wall his bed is pushed against. Cosette pokes her on the ribs to get her to move and jumps in with them. Éponine ends up in a diagonal with her head on Cosette’s lap and her legs over Grantaire’s.

“So many girls on my bed,” Grantaire says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Éponine snorts and Cosette rolls her eyes with a smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“Darling, I’d be tempted, but we all know you prefer blondes,” Cosette says in a mocking mournful tone.

“Hey-” he protests weakly.

“One blond specifically,” Éponine adds. “I don’t think he remembers there are other people in the world.”

“Alright! I thought this was about Éponine’s love life, not mine!”

“No,” she groans pulling a pillow over her face.

“He’s right, we can drag him later,” Cosette says, grabbing the pillow from Éponine’s hands and throwing it at their feet. “Tell me what happened.“

Éponine does.

Cosette stays silent for a while after Éponine is finished, gently stroking her hair. Éponine seems more tired than upset now.

“So,” Cosette say. “The problem is that you want to tell Ferre how you feel, but you don’t know how?”

Éponine sighs. “The problem is he doesn’t know,” she plays with the pink tips of Cosette’s hair for a moment. “I want him to know.”

“He knows you care about him,” Grantaire says.

“But it’s not the same, is it?” she snaps. “It feels unbalanced. It feels like I hold some sort of power and I don’t want it.” She breathes in deeply. “Besides, I really do love him.”

“Write him a letter,” Cosette shrugs.

“Seriously, ‘Sette? Can you seriously envision me sitting down and writing a love letter?”

Cosette and Grantaire laugh at the idea and Éponine smiles a real smile for the first time that evening.

“It’s like you don’t even know me!” she whines.

“Write it on a post-it note, then,” Grantaire says, and she shoves him with her feet.

Then she stops and chews on her lips, thinking. “Hey, guys.”

“Hm?”

“Would you help me bake some cupcakes?”

\--

It’s late at night and Combeferre hates how on edge and unhappy he feels. Part of him had built up hope and now he feels pathetic and childish.

Worse than that, he fears he has broken something between him and Éponine and now things will have to change.

A knock on the door shakes him out of his thoughts.

“I got it!” Enjolras calls from the living room.

Combeferre’s heart sinks when he hears Éponine’s voice. He’s sure it isn’t a good sign that she is showing up so late. He can’t make out the words through his closed door.

Éponine knocks and he tells her to come in. She seems nervous. There is a plastic food container in her hands.

“Hi,” she says. Her hands are gripping the box tightly.

“Hi,” Combeferre smiles tentatively and she seems to relax a little.

He is sitting up against the wall on his bed, and she joins him on the edge. She opens the box and puts it on his lap.

He looks down at its contents and smiles slowly, then starts laughing. Éponine is beaming when he looks back at her.

Inside the box, there are six chocolate cupcakes. Five of them have very crooked letters done in white frosting, and the sixth has an almost unrecognizable symbol of the Rebel Alliance done in pink. The letters spell “I know.”

He puts the box to the side carefully and pulls Éponine into a hug. She hugs him back fiercely, burying her face on his neck.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you,” he whispers against her hair.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

“I know,” he smirks.

\--

“Do you have an umbrella?” Enjolras asks, probably not really hoping for a positive answer.

“Nope.”

They are on their way from the campus to Enjolras’ apartment, with no real plan in mind except hanging out. They just stepped out from the bus and into the sheltered stop a block from there and seem to be trapped. The rain started to fall heavily when they were on the bus, and it’s giving no sign that it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Wanna make a run for it?” Enjolras asks with a shrug. A man resigned to his fate.

Grantaire grimaces. “I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

They grab each other’s hands and start running. The raindrops are heavy and their clothes and hair are completely soaked almost instantly, their feet splashing on big puddles on the sidewalk. It’s incredibly uncomfortable but they laugh as they stumble the entire way.

Enjolras unlocks the front gate and they take the stairs to his apartment, breathing heavily and still holding hands. Grantaire is shivering and cold to the bones and he can see Enjolras’ lips shaking.

Enjolras opens the door and the apartment feels slightly warmer than the corridors. Their soaked jackets are hard to take off, clinging to the shirts underneath.

“Come on, let’s get some towels” Enjolras says, taking off his shoes and wet socks and walking to his room, dripping water all over the floor.

Grantaire lags behind, fiddling with his boots. When he gets to Enjolras’ bedroom, he has gotten rid of his shirt and is drying his hair and the warmth Grantaire feels on the back of his neck is a strange contrast with his current wet and cold situation. Enjolras’ hair is completely disheveled when he drops the towel. It makes him look like a very tall and particularly beautiful dandelion.

He offers Grantaire a second towel, but before he can take it from his extended hand, Enjolras smirks and tosses it over his head, ruffling Grantaire’s hair with his hands. Grantaire laughs and closes his eyes. This shouldn’t feel so good.

He is thrown off balance by the movement and reaches out blindly, his hands landing on Enjolras’ bony hips. His skin is damp but warmer than Grantaire’s cold fingers. He really should take his hands away.

When Enjolras’ hands stop moving, Grantaire opens his eyes to find himself looking at his throat - which he would really, _really_ like to know how it would feel under his lips. When he raises his head Enjolras face is very close to his, his eyes fixed intently on him.

It takes all of Grantaire’s willpower not to look at Enjolras’ lips. His heart skips several beats when Enjolras glances at his. He doesn’t know if he’s shaking from the cold or just from this.

The towel is still over his head, with Enjolras’ hands holding on to it on the sides of his neck, his arms resting against his shoulders. Grantaire can feel Enjolras’ breath on his face as he leans closer, their noses almost touching. A very small part of his brain is aware that he has just stroked Enjolras’ waist with his thumbs, but it’s like he has no control over his body. Not when Enjolras is looking at him like that.

“I want to kiss you,” Enjolras whispers.

Grantaire just nods and Enjolras’ lips are on his in an instant. It’s slow and sweet and everything Grantaire has ever wanted. Enjolras lets go of the towel to grip his shoulders and deepens the kiss when Grantaire lets out a shaky sigh. Grantaire puts his arms around Enjolras’ waist to pull him closer, but as soon as their bodies touch Enjolras breathes in sharply and jumps back.

“Your shirt is so cold!” he laughs before Grantaire can start to panic. His cheeks are flushed and he seems happy and a little nervous.

“Sorry,” Grantaire says automatically. His brain seems to have been replaced by a cotton ball.

Enjolras is smiling when he leans in to kiss him again and begins to slowly unbutton his shirt. Grantaire’s breath hitches and he isn’t sure how he is managing to keep himself on his feet or refraining to push Enjolras against a wall and kiss him like his life depends on it. But against the deafening protests of every single cell on his body, Grantaire holds Enjolras’ wrists to stop him and pulls away.

“Wait,” he says breathlessly. “What… what is happening?”

“Sorry,” Enjolras says. “I meant to ask you out on a proper date first.”

Grantaire’s brain is struggling to keep up. The happiness in Enjolras’ eyes is beginning to falter and he wants to put it back there. He lets go of Enjolras’ wrists slowly and his hands are immediately back on his shoulders. He brushes the tips of his fingers over Enjolras’ sides and he shivers with a smile. Grantaire feels his muscles tense and then relax again under his hands.

“I guess it couldn’t be that easy with us,” Grantaire says as one of Enjolras’ hands leaves his shoulder to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. Grantaire leans into the touch and Enjolras buries his fingers on his hair. “We have to do things backwards.”

Enjolras smiles and leans forward, almost touching his lips with his.

“But it works, doesn’t it?” he says quietly and Grantaire can feel his breath with each word. “We make it work.”

When they kiss again, it’s deeper and messier than before. Enjolras’ hands are buried in Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire can’t keep his in just one place, exploring every bit of Enjolras’ exposed skin he can reach - the sharp bones on his hips, his delicate ribs, the thin scars on his chest and the elegant curve of his spine. Enjolras breathes hard when Grantaire kisses down his neck, his objection about Grantaire’s cold shirt forgotten when he presses his body firmly against his.

\--

Combeferre frowns when he opens the door and he and Éponine almost trip over the shoes scattered around on the floor. They know those shoes, but the owners aren’t anywhere to be seen. They give each other a significant look and take off their own wet shoes and jackets as quietly as they can. They tiptoe down the hall and find Enjolras’ bedroom door closed. They stand by it holding their breaths.

Slowly, over the noise of the rain that is still falling heavily, they make out ragged breathing and a couple of low moans coming from behind the door. Éponine’s mouth falls open, her eyes wide, and Combeferre has to clench his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. They retreat to Combeferre’s bedroom as quietly as they can.

\--

Enjolras has a habit of falling asleep mid-conversation whenever he and Grantaire are lying down together, though he swears he doesn’t do it.

They had just watched Deathly Hallows part two, the end of their Harry Potter rewatch. They are curled up on Enjolras’ couch, and Grantaire had felt him drift off several minutes ago. He doesn’t mind, not with Enjolras back pressed against his chest and his arms holding him tightly. He nuzzles on the back of Enjolras’ neck, just because he can.

“I love you,” he mutters against his skin. Enjolras is asleep. It’s safe.

Enjolras stirs and his breathing changes. One of his hands holds Grantaire’s arm.

“I love you too,” comes his voice a moment later, heavy with sleep.

Grantaire lets panic wash over him from just a second, then he holds Enjolras tighter, winning an appreciative sound from him.

“I thought you were sleeping.”

Enjolras turns to face him, smiling softly with his eyes half closed.

“Wasn’t I supposed to hear it?”

“No… I don’t know. Maybe I hopped your subconscious would pick it up.”

Enjolras hums and lets his head fall on the armrest. “Fine, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”

“Too late,” Grantaire grins, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “I mean it though,” he adds seriously.

“Me too,” Enjolras says. Grantaire can tell he’s drifting off again. “I love you.”

Grantaire feels like he should say more, so much more, but it doesn’t matter. Enjolras is asleep in his arms and Grantaire is happy to just be there with him. Anything else can wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://deboracabral.tumblr.com/).  
> 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [To Oblivious Idiots [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901080) by [orestesdreamspyladesloves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orestesdreamspyladesloves/pseuds/orestesdreamspyladesloves)




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